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94 the power to be silent in what I think I ought not to tell; the confession I made to you, was not owing to any weakness, and it required more courage to declare such a truth, than it would have done to conceal it.

The duke de Nemours did not lose a word of this conversation, and what madam de Cleves had said gave him no less jealousy than her husband; he was so desperately in love with her, that he believed all the world was so too; it is true, he had many rivals, yet he fancied them still more, and his thoughts wandered to find out who it was madam de Cleves meant: he had often thought he was not disagreeable to her; but the grounds of his judgment on this occasion appeared so slight, that he could not imagine he had raised in her heart a passion violent enough to oblige her to have recourse to so extraordinary a remedy; he was so transported, that he scarce knew what he saw, and he could not pardon monsieur de Cleves for not having pressed his wife enough to tell him the name of the person she concealed from him.

Monsieur de Cleves nevertheless, used his utmost endeavours to know it; and having urged her very much on the subject—I think, answered she, that you ought to be satisfied with my sincerity; ask me no more about it, and do not give me cause to repent of what I have done; content yourself with the assurance which I once more give you, that my sentiments have never appeared by any of my actions, and that no address hath been made to me that could give me offence.—Ah! madam, replied monsieur de Cleves on a sudden, I cannot believe it; I remember the confusion you was in when your picture was lost; you have given away, madam, you have given away that picture, which was so dear to me, and which I had so just a right to; you have not been able to conceal your inclinations; you are in love; it is known; your virtue has hitherto saved you from the rest.—Is it possible, cried madam de Cleves, you can imagine there was any reserve or disguise in a